Nothing is Forever
by Hc-Svnt-Dracones
Summary: Loneliness leads to nothing good... only detachment. spoilers for Haunted.


**Title: Nothing is Forever**  
**Author: Eschewing Obfuscation**  
**Pairing/Characters: Topher, BFFL!Sierra, mentions of DeWitt, Boyd, and Claire**  
**Rating: pg-13 for some cursing**  
**Spoilers: through Haunted**  
**Disclaimer: Dollhouse doesn't belong to me. I have no intention of earning any money off of this or of infringing on any copywrites. All in good fun.**  
**Word Count: 675**

"Hey, Alex?" Topher says at one point, when they're sitting together on his couch and they've only got a few precious minutes left before the Dolls wake up and she's wiped and the coach turns into a pumpkin again.

"What?" she asks, as she licks Twinkie whipped cream off the end of her finger, not paying any attention.

"This has been an awesome birthday." He says warmly, because it's true.

"As promised." She says, with a smirk, wiping the next finger-full on his cheek. He makes the requisite annoyed face, wipes the goo off.

"No, seriously," he says (and oh, god is that a whine? Is he whining? He clears his throat before finishing, just to be sure), "Thanks." She scoffs.

"Come on, like I'd miss you turning a quarter of a century old, grampa? Not gonna happen. Way too many jokes at your expense for me to skip out." He smiles then, but it feels like he's a jack-o-lantern and it's been carved on, fake, manufactured, plastic. He's going to miss her when she goes back to being Sierra and stares at him with her confused brown eyes and her bewildered half-smile. She punches him in the arm, appalled at the sudden appearance of sentiment.

"No _time_ for that, teary!" she crows, "We still haven't finished watching _Lost_."

"Yeah," he says, half still buying into the illusion, half realising he's a shitty liar, he's always been a shitty liar and he will always _be_ a shitty liar. Doctor Saunders will be awake now, dressed and heading downstairs from the available employee housing that no one uses to rouse the Dolls and start the cycle over again. And then it'll be gone and it'll be just him, all alone, for the next 364 days.

"Dude, are you getting the DVDs out or what? I want to see if Jack's killed himself yet,"

"Don't get your hopes up." He says, and it's meant to be a joke, but he can't seem to keep the flatness out of his tone, because he can hear the childlike voices floating up from down below his windowed nest of computers and motherboards. Knows it's the sleepies clambering out of their pods with a stretch and a yawn, looking forward to a brand new day and a brand new chance to be their best. Alex gives an aggravated groan.

"What is _with_ you!?" she asks grabbing him by the sleeve of his shirt and trying to tug him toward the TV, "Move it!" but he can smell the Dolls' breakfast being cooked and he knows it's over.

"You…you have to go." He says, glum, "It's time for your treatment." She looks at her watch, groans.

"Next time, then." She says, not even a little apologetic. He nods and leads her to the imprint room, the only room that has never and will never be part of their playground. She settles in the chair, breathes a deep breath and makes a joke about him being some kind of weird pervy dentist. Then there's a flash and she's blank and thinks she's just dozed off and when she asks if she should go there's a tiny part of him that wants to scream _don't leave!_ But that would be unprofessional and he is nothing if not good at his job.

Boyd makes his rounds early that day, gives Topher a pitying look and a pat on the shoulder. DeWitt behaves as she usually does, brisk and disdainful, showing emotion only for a second when Echo is wiped and after that it's gone and she goes back to looking at him with annoyance (and sympathy?) in her eyes and she's just so very, very British. Dr. Saunders walks on egg shells, apologising gently, approaching cautiously, hemming and hawing, pretending not to know what last night was; as if she thinks he'll shatter into a million tiny pieces. They all avoid him, though; avoid looking into his eyes like he knows they always will. He couldn't have predicted it better if he'd programmed it himself.


End file.
